


evergreens and a dream of an island town

by closertoheavenn



Category: Dickinson (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, F/F, also maggie is a goddess say it with me now, but it's more of a therapeutic thing for me than anything else, i love her wow, she's such an underrated character, this is honestly a mess, while i'm desperately waiting for new episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29022963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closertoheavenn/pseuds/closertoheavenn
Summary: Maggie thinks Emily is an absolutely wonderful young woman. She is not nearly as bad-mannered and awful as her mother made Maggie believe. She is resilient, determined, intelligent, a true force to be reckoned with.Still, Maggie notices this wildness about her, this restlessness.Sometimes, rarely, Maggie wonders about certain things.//or: Emily and Sue through Maggie's eyes.
Relationships: Emily Dickinson/Susan Gilbert Dickinson
Comments: 26
Kudos: 273





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i literally could not tell you what possessed me to write this, but here we are anyway. i wrote this in a sleep deprived state at 1 am and i'm pretty certain it reads that way too. my apologies. 
> 
> also maggie apparently was the maid of the dickinsons in real life too??? the things you discover when doing research for gay fanfics lol (this is not based on the real life maggie though, i only used her real life brothers' names. i just made up my own backstory).  
>    
> enjoy, and let me know what you think in the comments! :)

Maggie moves to America only two and a half weeks after her third husband passes away. 

She leaves at six o’clock on a cold, drizzly Tuesday morning, with her nose high up in the air and a strength that aches in her bones. 

She presses sloppy kisses to her brothers’ cheeks, takes a horse and carriage to the port of Dublin, spends the very last of her money to buy a cheap boat ticket, gets on a ship straight to New York City and doesn’t look back.

The journey takes a little more than seven weeks and Maggie spends most of that time feeling sick and miserable (grief and seasickness is not the most pleasant combination) and hardly leaves her room - she _does_ , however, feel a little bit better when she meets the recently widowed David Hartford, who is just as somber as she is and twice as ill.

They make quite the pair, really.

//

On a particular hot summer day in July, the ship arrives in New York. It moors alongside the docks of Brooklyn in the early afternoon.

When Maggie sets foot on land for the first time in two months, a warm ray of sunshine hits her face and she can’t help but grin widely when she sees the Statue of Liberty, grinning right back at her.

She intertwines David’s fingers with her own and takes in the scent of America, her new home.

It smells an awful lot like freedom.

//

Maggie marries David one and a half years later. They have a grand wedding ceremony on a cruise ship on the Hudson River and Maggie is so overjoyed with happiness she completely forgets to be seasick.

Their first few years of their marriage are blissful – they buy a beautifully elegant brownstone in Greenwich and Maggie spends most of her days reading, cooking and strolling around the neighborhood, content and loved. David buys her new books every week and never fails to compliment her food. _The fourth time might be a charm_ , she thinks. 

Her brothers Michael and Thomas move to America as well. Michael marries the daughter of a well-known banker and Thomas finds himself a job as a blacksmith in Amherst, Massachusetts. Maggie visits them every month.

After almost four years of marriage, the law firm where David works loses one of its most important clients. As a result, the law firm has to make several budget cuts. David tells Maggie that a lot of his co-workers have been fired. 

“Guys I’ve worked with since the beginning, Mag,” he complains one afternoon, taking a big gulp of whiskey. “Greg, Theo, Scott. We built this thing from scratch. We’ve laid the foundation for their success, and this is how they _fucking_ thank us?”

He has gotten a warning himself too, he tells her then; his supervisior informed him that he is on thin ice. “Whatever the _fuck_ that means,” he grumbles. “It’s complete bullshit, don’t you think, Mags?”

Maggie doesn’t answer, she knows that is not what her man needs – she pours him another whiskey instead.

//

David gets fired exactly five months later.

Maggie knows how hard this must be on her husband – she gives him time to wallow in his sadness, she endures him constant reeking of roll-up cigarettes, she doesn’t say a word about the ungodly hours he comes home, she keeps quiet when he crawls into bed with his bourbon-like breath and she tolerates his sudden and impulsive angry outbursts, but _sweet Jesus_ , a woman can only take so much.

When she finally confronts him about his _habits_ , he kisses her square on the mouth and faithfully promises her that he is going to look for a new job.

It’s her own fault, really. Maggie has had enough husbands to know that a drunken man's promise is worthless.

David starts going out even more often and he starts coming home later and later – one night, he comes home at five o’clock, smelling like cheap booze and a perfume Maggie knows can’t be his. 

“You fucked up, Dave,” she tells him, calmly. _What’s one more husband anyway?_

“What?” He turns around with a dark look in his eyes.

“You fucked up,” Maggie crosses her arms. “I want you out by tomorrow evening. You can take your whiskey with you and leave.”

“I fucked up? Watch your tone, woman,” he slurs. “You're the fucking slut who can't even keep four husbands satisfied. Hell, three of them _died_. There must be something really fuckin' wrong with you,” he slurs.

“I don't want to fight with you,” Maggie sighs. “You're drunk and quite pathetic, if you ask me, and -”

Maggie can’t finish her sentence; that’s when he hits her.

//

Maggie sweetly puts a few drops of rat poisoning in his cinnamon tea the following morning. She peacefully sips her own tea as she watches her husband choke. Her black eye stings.

After his funeral, she packs all the pieces of her shattered life into a suitcase and takes the night train to Amherst, Massachusetts. 

Three weeks later, she gets hired as a maid for the Dickinsons.

//

It was supposed to be temporary.

“As soon as my oldest daughter decides to grow up and starts to behave like a proper young lady, there’s no need for you anymore,” Mrs. Dickinson ensures her on her first day, with a rather uptight smile. They are in the kitchen together, kneading the dough for the bread. “My husband has told you that, no?”

Maggie shakes her head. “No, madam.”

“Oh well,” Mrs. Dickinson sighs dramatically, “now you know. We don’t need a maid.”

Maggie can't help but grin. “Well, we’ll see how this goes, shall we, madam?”

//

Maggie stays. Weeks pass and she stays. The Dickinson children starts to grow on her – Lavinia the young, hopeless romantic, Austin with his dopey grin and cheerful attitude, Sue, all sweet faced and soft doe eyes, not a single sharp edge.

Maggie even begins to take a liking in Mrs. Dickinson, who she discovers is not very much unlike herself at all. 

Mr. Dickinson, on the other hand, is a man Maggie just can't seem to grasp. He is very formal and detached man and Maggie doesn't like his severeness. She is, however, willing to admit that they share one (arguably) very important thing with each other – they are both fonder of Emily than anyone else. 

Maggie thinks Emily is an absolutely wonderful young woman. She is not nearly as bad-mannered and awful as her mother made Maggie believe. She is resilient, determined, intelligent, a true force to be reckoned with. 

Still, Maggie notices this wildness about her, this restlessness. 

Sometimes, rarely, Maggie wonders about certain things.

//

One morning, Emily and Sue descend the stairs and walk into the kitchen before the rest of the household has woken.

“Maggie,” Emily says with a smile, reaching for a piece of bread. “I love you. Don’t you love her, Sue?”

“Yes,” Sue comments, smiling. She takes a considerably smaller piece of bread than Emily and takes a bite. After swallowing, she glances between Maggie and Emily and adds solemnly, “yes, I do.”

//

It’s almost absurd, how different Emily and Sue are, Maggie ponders. Emily is such a handful, wild and rambunctious, while Sue is the most reserved and gentle girl Maggie has ever seen. They are polar opposites, and yet they are the dearest of friends.

Maggie hears them at night every now and then – muted laughter and quiet murmurs seeping through the walls of the Dickinson home.

She starts to wonder a little more often. 

//

Maggie sees them, once. 

Sunday mornings are quiet in the Dickinson household – the family goes to church, Maggie cleans the bedrooms because she has not found a catholic church to go to yet.

She is collecting laundry in Lavinia’s room when she suddenly hears two voices outside. One of them is talking animatedly, the other one is humming in agreement. 

Maggie shifts her body towards the window to get a look at who the voices belong to and suddenly Emily and Sue come into the view. They are standing against the barn, pressed up against each other. Emily is slowly running her hands through Sue’s hair and the base of her neck, and kisses her lazily. Sue giggles into her mouth. 

Everything kind of falls into place after that.

//

One evening, when Maggie comes back from the store, Sue and Emily are cooking dinner. Maggie stands in the doorway, watching them. Sue is cutting bell peppers, while Emily sits on the counter top, kicking her feet against the cabinet and munching on fresh vegetables as Sue good-naturedly slaps her hand away.

After a few moments, Maggie decides to make herself known. “Hello ladies,” she greets them as she takes of her coat.

Sue turns around and smiles. “Oh, hi, Maggie,” she says. “I've already started dinner. I hope you don't mind. It’s almost ready. It would’ve been ready sooner, if _someone_ didn’t constantly steel my vegetables.”

Emily laughs loudly. “They’re just too good, Sue.”

Maggie's lips curl into a smile as she watches the two young women in front of her - she is forty-one years old, she has had four husbands and not once, she marvels, not once she had felt even a _fraction_ of the love Emily and Sue have for each other.

//

Then, Sue leaves.

Maggie finds Emily later that night, in her room – sitting at her empty desk, staring blankly into the night, lips quivering.

“Are you okay, Miss Emily?” Maggie asks, quietly, as she stands in the door opening.

“She left, Maggie,” Emily whispers, her voice raw and honest. “She just… _left_.” Her voice breaks.

Maggie bites her lip - nods. “You love her a lot, don’t you?”

Emily slowly turns around, eyes wide, face red and slick with tears. “Of course, she is my best friend.”

Maggie pats Emily’s shoulder. “That’s not what I meant, sweetie,” she mumbles as her heart breaks for the girl in front of her.

//

Sue comes back again. For Austin. Talk of marriage begins to circle again.

Emily doesn't want to get married - Emily wants to be a poet. Mr. Dickinson doesn’t allow this. He makes it clear to her in the cruelest way possible.

Maggie’s heart aches as she hears the sound of his punishment, resonating through the room, and the silence after the storm. Men are _monsters_ , she thinks angrily.

//

Emily has Ben, until she doesn’t.

His death is sudden, it’s unexpected, it’s everything bad and worse and more.

“Your heart will mend,” she promises Emily, standing next to Ben’s grave stone, thinking of David. “It might take some time, but it will mend.”

Emily hiccups. “But I don’t want my heart to mend, Maggie. I want him to come back.”

//

Austin and Sue get married on a beautiful day in early spring. Emily is not at the wedding. Maggie doesn’t know why.

Maggie _does_ know that Sue is weary and bleak, that she smiles until she looks so tired she can’t smile anymore, and that her fingers tremble when Austin slides on her wedding ring.

//

Weeks pass. Life goes on quietly. Austin and Sue build their new home, Lavinia gets a new cat and Emily writes and writes and writes. Maggie couldn't be more proud of her. 

In the summer, Michael comes to visit Maggie.

They take a stroll through Amherst and find Emily, Lavinia and Sue on the small, wooden pier next to the lake, giggling and eating rhubarb pie. Emily’s legs are casually thrown over Lavinia’s and Sue is absentmindedly running her fingers through Emily’s hair.

As soon as they spot Maggie and her brother, they wave enthusiastically.

“Who is that girl next to Emily?” Michael asks Maggie.

“That’s Sue,” Maggie answers. “She Emily’s.”

Michael gives her a look. “Emily’s what? Best friend, maid, sister?”

Maggie shrugs. “No, she’s just _Emily’s_ , you know?”

Michael blinks at her dumbly and Maggie’s pretty certain he does not, in fact, _know_.

That’s okay, he doesn’t have understand their relationship. As long as Maggie does. Emily’s is Sue’s and Sue is Emily’s. Maggie is convinced the rest will fall into place eventually. 

(And it does.)


	2. chapter 2

Maggie is, and has always been, an early bird.

Ever since being hired by the Dickinsons, she wakes up at four o’clock in the morning, gets dressed, drinks a glass of ice cold water and heads over to the Homestead.

Some mornings, Mrs. Dickinson is already dressed, cutting up fruit or kneading whole grain dough. Some mornings, Maggie runs into Lavinia on her way to fetch water from the well. 

Some mornings, the lights are still on at Sue and Austin’s. Sue is usually standing in the doorway, and she waves at Maggie with a tired smile as her guests stumble out drunk, laughing with each other and talking loudly.

Those same mornings, as Maggie waves back, she can see a candle flickering behind the glass of Emily’s room, and the occasional hand movements, fingers stained with ink, a brown lock of hair every now and then.

Maggie can see Sue’s eyes looking into that direction, as well.

It always makes her smile as she starts preparing breakfast.

//

Every Wednesday, Maggie delivers the morning paper and a basket of poems to the Evergreens. 

If she notices that every single poem is addressed to Sue, or that the word _love_ is scribbled onto the page, she doesn’t mention. Neither does she mention the fact that there are sometimes little hearts scribbled into the margin.

If Maggie knows, she never talks about it – it’s just not her place.

//

After the wedding, Sue and Austin take a weekend trip to Boston. When they come back, they start building their house - the Evergreens.

Maggie sees less and less of Sue as the weeks pass by. One afternoon, as she is doing laundry in Emily's room, she asks about it.

“Well,” Emily shrugs, not looking up from the poem she is writing. “I don’t know. Sue has her own life now.”

Maggie folds a towel. “Yes,” she answers. “She must be quite busy with her new home, and her marriage.”

Emily hums.

“And her baby.”

Emily turns around, her eyes wide. “What do you –”

Maggie winks. “Don’t worry, dear. A good maid knows how to keep a secret.”

//

A few weeks later, Austin comes over for afternoon tea. 

“Austin, why didn’t you bring Sue?” Mrs. Dickinson asks as Maggie fills her cup with chamomile tea.

“She didn’t feel well,” Austin answers, biting down on a shortbread biscuit. “I haven’t seen her since yesterday.”

“You haven’t seen her since _yesterday_?” Lavinia exclaims, shocked.

“Yeah, well, I slept on the couch in the library last night. I told Sue to go and rest in the bedroom,” Austin says matter-of-factly. “And that I wouldn’t bother her today. She doesn't want anyone to see her while she's sick.”

“Women…” Mr. Dickinson mutters confused, shaking his head. He lights a cigar and takes a long drag.

Maggie sets a tray with tea down on the table.

“Maybe Sue made Emily sick as well,” Mrs. Dickinson suggests, looking worried. “I’m afraid she’s coming down with something.”

“Yeah, she hasn’t left her room the entire day,” Lavinia adds, shrugging, taking a sip of tea. “Not that that’s unusual for her, but still.”

That evening, Maggie enters Emily’s room only to find it dark and empty, the bed untouched. In an old suitcase, Maggie finds a cloth with thick, dark-red blood stains, the initials S.H.G. embroidered into the cloth, hidden away behind some undergarments.

At four-thirty in the morning, as Maggie makes her way towards the Dickinson household, the lights are still out in Emily's room. In the master bedroom of the Evergreens, Maggie notices, the light is on.

At breakfast, Emily's eyes are red and swollen and her food remains untouched.

It’s then that certain things fall into place.

//

After losing the baby, Sue starts to burn a little brighter. 

She lives life like it’s a party, _her_ party – all golden necklaces, champagne flutes, pretty boys and grand smiles.

But, Maggie knows, grief has certain voids even diamonds can’t fill.

//

Samuel Bowles is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. With his calm, placating voice, drawing Emily into this abstract empire of his, smiling, but just enough to never show his sharp teeth.

Maggie pokes through his façade immediately.

Emily doesn’t. But Emily is not a child anymore. She is not a young, clueless girl anymore. She is an adult, woman enough to make her own choices, and to make her own mistakes.

“Sam is going to publish my poem, Maggie,” Emily says excitedly, walking into the kitchen. Maggie has just started cutting up fresh fruit. Emily reaches for a strawberry.

“That’s really good,” Maggie answers, because it is. She truly is happy for Emily. This headstrong girl in front of her deserves nothing less than the world. 

“He is so nice. He might be the best thing that ever happened to me,” she says, munching the piece of red fruit. “Don’t you think so, Maggie?”

Maggie is quiet for a few seconds before responding. “I think not all nice people are good,” she warns, and that’s all she says.

As she watches Emily wander out of the kitchen, she sincerely wonders if it's enough.

//

One particularly early summer morning, as Maggie walks across the grass field to Homestead, she notices Sam hastily leaving the Evergreens, pulling up his pants as he sprints towards the nearest carriage.

Sue is standing in the door opening, wearing nothing but a chemise and a shawl around her shoulders, a particular look on her face Maggie has never seen before.

Bloody hell, she thinks. You really made a mess of this, dear.

(Maggie doesn’t blame Sue for sleeping with Sam. She knows better than that. Grief is, after all, a fickle thing.

One less understanding might say that Sue just wants fame. But Maggie knows she doesn’t. How badly most people want fame is how badly Sue wants everything else.)

//

The way Sue carries herself reminds Maggie of her second husband, in a certain sense.

His name was Cillian Hughes, and he was the most handsome man in town. He had blonde hair and dark eyes and the kind of face that would make you stop dead in your tracks.

He never spared any girl even the slightest glance, except Maggie. They had always been good together and so when he asked her to marry him, she found it impossible to say no.

Their wedding was small but lovely. 

Wedded life was less lovely. Don’t get her wrong, it was lovely at first – it was always lovely at first.

Until it wasn’t.

She asked him why he never kissed her on the mouth anymore, why they never made love. She was not accusing him; she made that clear. She just wondered.

“Maggie, you’re my dearest friend and I’d tell you absolutely everything,” he always told her, and then he kissed her on the mouth for good measure. “But some things might be better left unspoken. You wouldn’t be able to stand me if you knew.”

“But –”

Cillian sighed, ran his hand through his hair. Maggie always thought he looked rather handsome when he did that. “Mags, darling of mine, I’m your husband and I love you. That’s enough for me. Isn’t it for you?”

It wasn’t until after nearly three years of marriage that certain things started to take shape. It was the little things at first – his distaste for church, his sexual disinterest in her, certain glances on the street.

Then, the bigger things – burning bibles, staying out late reeking of alcohol, another _man_.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Maggie asked, softly, and Cillian _broke._

“Please don’t leave me, please, _please_ ,” he begged, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry, I love you, _please, stay_ –” 

Maggie stayed. 

The years passed and Maggie stayed. 

“So, what would the man of your dreams look like?” Maggie asked, one day, sipping her breakfast tea. 

Cillian turned bright red. “Don’t be silly,” he sputtered. 

“What? That’s not a weird question, is it? You must think a certain type of man is attractive,” Maggie stated, quite pleased with herself to see the man in front of her in such shambles. 

“Dark hair? Or blonde hair? Oh no, you’re into redheads. _Obviously_ ,” Maggie grinned, unable to stop herself. “A handsome smile, kind eyes, a good set of abs, large, strong thighs. Oh, and of course with a _huge_ –” 

“Maggie!” Cillian gasped, horrified. 

“Sense of humour,” Maggie offered, smirking. “What did you think I was going to say?” 

Cillian met a few men over the years. Maggie did, too. They came, and then they went. Some came back again, some didn’t. None lasted. 

Cillian got tubercolosis when he had just turned thirty-four years old. 

"I'm terrified of dying, Maggie," Cillian told her on his deathbed, his entire body quivering. "I think I might go Hell." 

"You won't," Maggie spoke, more determined than ever, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. "No one is going to go to Hell because of who they love." 

“Thank you, Maggie,” Cillian told her, desperately clasping his cold fingers around her wrist. “Thank you for _standing_ me. I mean, most of the time, I can’t even stand myself,” he said, before breathing out his last breath. 

Sometimes, all these years later, when Maggie looks at Sue, she wonders if Sue feels a bit like that too. 

// 

Maggie can hear Emily screaming into her pillow one night. She knows Emily knows. 

Oh, darling, I told you: not all nice people are good, Maggie thinks. 

And then she thinks about Sue and thinks, and not all good people are nice. 

// 

Sometimes, people have to grow apart before they can grow back to each other.

//

It gets worse before it gets better. As the old Irish saying goes: _no matter how long the day, the evening comes._

Sam visits Emily. 

Maggie seriously considers putting rat poison in his roast beef sandwich, but decided against it. She does, however, steal Emily’s poems back from his satchel, which is kind of the second-best thing. 

She overhears only a small part of their conversation, but it’s enough for her. 

“You know about is, don’t you?” she can hear Sam say. “I see what’s going on here. You found out about me and Sue, and now you’re _jealous_.” 

Maggie puts the plate of roast beef quietly onto the dresser in the hallway and bends down. 

“You thought I was flirting with you, or something. Leading you on. Well, I wasn’t, okay?” he sneers. “I was only ever interested in your work, which is what you should be focused on too. Don’t let your emotions get in the way of your career. That is always what happens to women." 

Maggie opens his satchel and takes out the books of poems. She can’t bear to listen to the rest of the conversation. 

Men and their ego, she thinks, it’s a _bloody fucking disease._

//

The look on Emily’s face when she sees her stolen poems is a million times better than Maggie could ever imagine. 

“A good maid knows how to be invisible,” Maggie states, proud of herself and the girl in front of her, and Emily thanks her and hugs her and thanks her again until she starts crying.

"I _fucking_ hate her, Maggie," Emily cries. "I hate her so much. She broke my heart."

Maggie wonders if Emily knows that's what being in love feels like.

“You know what, dearie? I’m going to make you some food before I’m going to visit my brother,” Maggie says carefully, stroking Emily's cheek. “There’s no problem a good meal can’t fix.”

// 

Maggie prepares a true feast – Emily deserves nothing less. 

After that, Maggie puts on a coat and leaves to see Michael. 

From a distance, she can see a figure leaving the church, running towards Homestead with a quick and firm pace. 

As the figure comes closer, Maggie realizes it’s Sue. She looks nothing but brave and determined and Maggie can't help but grin widely. 

Yes, sweetheart, she thinks triumphantly, _go get your girl._

//

Maggie comes home later that afternoon to find their clothes scattered all over the stairs, the dining table a mess and a bath tub with lukewarm water in the kitchen. A smile spreads across her face. She starts cleaning the table, humming softly to herself, thinking about Cillian, who must be looking down at her from Heaven now.

//

That evening, Sue and Emily come walking into the kitchen, holding hands.

At the subtle raise of Maggie's eyebrows at their hands, Emily's lips twist into a small smile. "We made up, don't gloat," she says. "Is there any of that butterscotch cake left? We're _starving_."

//

It's only a couple of days later when Maggie catches them.

She opens the door of Emily's bedroom to pick up her dirty laundry to find Emily and Sue sharing a soft, slow kiss on Emily's bed, Sue's hands all tangled up in Emily's hair.

They immediately break apart as she enters.

"Maggie, I swear this is _not_ -" Emily says, panicked.

"We're not -" Sue attempts, a terrified look in her eyes.

Maggie only winks. "It's okay, dearies. Don't mind me, I can come back later," she grins as she closes the door. "After all, a good maid knows how to be invisible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't stop thinking about the season finale and that's why i present to you: chapter 2 of this fic
> 
> i literally wrote this in two and a half hours without looking back, so don't be too harsh on me lol


End file.
